


L’arbre généreux

by inmyrosegarden



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Français | French, M/M, One Shot, cutesy idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:22:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmyrosegarden/pseuds/inmyrosegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Louis thinks French class is a waste of time, until, of course, he meets Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L’arbre généreux

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiii okay, i really love the french language it's just the class that annoys me idk lol anyway...i thought of this in said french class when i should've really been paying attention but oops what can you doooo ♡✿♡✿♡✿♡✿♡

“Louis!” Madam Whitney cries in outrage. “Come here right  _now_.”

Louis sighs and gets out of his seat, wondering  _why the hell_ he chose to take French in his  _senior year_. It seems to be the most boring class in his entire schedule and it’s honestly just too much busy work that he can’t even be bothered to attempt.

“Oui, Madame?” Louis asks, smiling charmingly.

Madame Whitney raises her eyebrows. “You are in  _AP French_ Louis. Why aren’t you doing your work like the rest of your classmates?”

Louis looks around the classroom and sure enough, all of the other students are reading their textbooks and taking notes attentively. He wants to laugh at their naivety.

So he shrugs in response.

“Louis Louis Louis  _Louis,”_ Madame throws her hands up in the air. “How do you expect to pass the exam with an attitude like this?”

 _I don’t,_ he thinks. But in response, he shrugs again.

Madame tsks in distaste. Scurrying back over to Louis’ seat in the back, she picks up his text book and motions for him to follow her outside.

After closing the door behind them, Madame Whitney looks at Louis skeptically. “Louis,” she begins. “I know you’re a bloody genius, yeah? I’m not going to make you sit in there for this last week before the exam because I  _know_  you won’t get anything out of it.  _However,”_ she raises her eyebrows and purses her lips. “I need you to pick a story from your book—I don’t care what level it is—and sit here practicing reading it out loud. At the end of the week, your grade will be based on how well you can read the story and pronounce the words. Got it?”

“Yup,” Louis nods, popping the p.

Madame chuckles and hands Louis his textbook. “Good. Now sit and  _practice_ for god’s sake.”

For the first time since he’s been in the class, Louis does as he’s told.

He opens up his dusty book to the table of contents. While scrolling through the different titles of the short stories, Louis comes across one that seems familiar.

“ _L’arbre généreux_ ,” Louis reads aloud. “Isn’t this the same thing as  _The Giving Tree_?”

Someone laughs at his comment. Louis’ head snaps up quickly and he sees that there is, in fact, a boy sitting a little ways away from him.

The boy’s got curly brown hair and he is evidently tall, judging by his long lanky limbs that are folded up in the area that he’s sitting in. His cheeks are tinged with pink and he’s biting back a grin sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says.

“It’s fine, mate,” Louis replies, peering at the boy. He doesn’t think he’s seen him around before and that puts him off a bit because, well. His school is quite small and he knows everyone in it since they’ve all pretty much grown up together. “Say,” Louis begins, intrigued. “Do I know you?”

The boy bites his lip. “Probably not,” he says, grin slipping off his face. “I’m Harry, and erm—I’m new.”

“Oh cool!” Louis beams. “Where’re you from?”

“Cheshire,” Harry replies easily, smile slowly forming once again.

“That explains the posh accent,” Louis snorts.

“Heeeey!” Harry protests, pouting. “I don’thave  _that much_ of a posh accent!”

Louis rolls his eyes but is unable to keep the smile off of his face (and out of his voice). “Believe what you will, Harold,” he sing-songs.

“Shouldn’t you be reading  _L’arbre_ _généreux?”_ Harry asks, pointedly looking at the textbook in Louis’ lap.

“What’s the point!?” Louis scoffs, banging his head against the wall. “My pronunciation sucks ass.”

Harry hesitates. “Well—I could help you.”

“Could you really? Do you even  _take_ French?”

Harry sighs. “Do you want me to demonstrate?”

Louis nods.

 “Il était une fois un arbre, qui aimait un petit garçon. Et le garçon venait le voir tous les jours.”

Louis blinks. “You know this memorized!? And shit, your accent is, like, perfect.”

The light dusting of pink reappears of Harry’s cheeks. “Well, it’s not  _perfect_ —“

“Nonsense!” Louis exclaims, pushing away from the wall he was sitting against and moving over to Harry. “You’re perfect. Now you must teach me your ways.”

Harry giggles and Louis’ heart swells up twice its original size.

“Okay,” Harry finally says, after his heart rate has calmed down a bit (because there is a very attractive boy sitting next to him and he is  _praising_ him, oh gosh).  “Read the next sentence, Lou.”

Louis bites his lip to hide the smile that’s threatening to bloom. “Hmm. Il cueillait ses feuilles, et il s’en faisait des couronnes pour jouer au roi de la foret.”

Harry smiles. “Not bad, um. It’s just—you sound a bit frigid, I don’t know? When you speak French, you need to relax your mind. Don’t think too hard about what you’re saying or what it’s gonna sound like. Just—just breathe and read.”

Louis frowns but nods nonetheless. “Just breathe and read—got it.”

“Also,” Harry begins. “When you speak, you should purse you lips. Create an ‘o’ and then speak through it? Like this.” Harry purses his lips—his pretty, pouty, perfect pink lips—and says, “Il grimpait a son tronc et se balançait a ses branches et mangeait ses pommes.” He looks up at Louis, who is  _very obviously_ staring at his lips. (Harry can’t help but blush at what he notices.)

“Huh?” Louis says breathlessly, just then noticing how  _close together_ they’re sitting. “Oh. Oh um.”

“Just—“ Harry stutters. He clears his throat and fixes his fringe. “Erm, just like. You heard the difference in how I said it, right?”

“No, actually I didn’t.” Louis says before he can stop himself. “You just have  _really_ pretty lips and it’s quite distracting.” He clamps his mouth shut with his hand, and his eyes bulge.

Harry’s face feels like it is on fire. “Erm—“ he coughs. “I—“

“Well shit,” Louis says, hand still over his mouth. Then he realizes that Harry probably can’t understand him, so he lowers it. “Sorry! I just—I wow. I seriously have no brain to mouth filter, and gosh—I’ve just made things really awkward, haven’t I?”

Harry laughs. “It’s fine, um. Yours aren’t that bad either, to be honest.” He grins cheekily, looking down at Louis’ mouth.

Louis bites his lip and gauges Harry’s reaction. He sees that Harry’s eyes are quite focused on his lips, so he puckers them and exaggeratedly kisses the air.

Harry’s eyes snap back up to Louis’ and he looks guilty—almost.

“So,” Louis says. “What do you say to being my personal French tutor?”

Harry beams, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, I’d—I’d like that a lot.”

The bell rings, breaking the silence. “Well,” Louis says, getting up. “D’you want my number?”

Harry nods, unable to keep from smiling. “Here, um,” he passes Louis his phone.

After Louis has plugged in his number, he turns to look at Harry—who is still closely watching his every action.

Louis gets on his tiptoes and leans up towards Harry, who bends his head a bit to accommodate Louis’ height. When Louis’ lips touch the shell of Harry’s ear, he whispers, “Don’t forget the chap stick.”

Harry shivers at the feel of Louis’ warm breath. But before he can formulate a reply, Louis is sauntering off in the opposite direction,  _L’arbre généreux_ completely forgotten.

 _Maybe French class isn’t so_   _bad,_ Louis thinks as he walks off.

**Author's Note:**

> the french text mentioned is “L’arbre généreux” by Shel Silverstein. thank youuu for reading <3


End file.
